


Fourth Time Pays For All

by ItsaVikingThing



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Attempted Drugging, Canon-Typical Nastiness, F/F, Pompidou is a good boy, Time Travel, Yes he is, attempted suicide, but don't worry about it too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 12:19:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10764147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsaVikingThing/pseuds/ItsaVikingThing
Summary: Rachel's feeling stifled.Until a strange girl shows up and exposes aspects of Arcadia Bay to Rachel that she never knew existed.As things take a turn for the sinister, Rachel becomes convinced she's got a guardian angel looking out for her.It's just a pity her angel doesn't seem to like her very much.Particularly when she's so pretty.





	Fourth Time Pays For All

**Author's Note:**

> A nocturne. From me to you.

The banner reads: Enter the Vortex.

Rachel's pretty sure she's seen this one before.

She steps through the curtain. She pauses on the threshold.

She takes in the pulsing darkness of the badly disguised gym; the thumping bass, the tangle of trying too hard bodies, and, yeah.

Rachel's seen this party before.

She knows every face.

She knows how many steps she needs to take to get her first drink. How many more to her second joint of the evening.

She knows Hayden will want to dance, mostly so he can grab her ass. Or any other target of opportunity. Hayden's not that fussy.

She knows Logan will be drunk already, but too sober to make a pass at her.

Victoria will still be in the passive stage of bitchiness. Give it an hour, though, and she'll get to outright aggressive.

Nathan will show up, high and...actually, there's a variable. He might be overflowing with brittle bonhomie or sullen with a side of shrieking rage.

Either way, he'll try to corner her and drag her away somewhere private. Way too late for it to be tempting any more.

And then, the most exciting part of the evening: will she be able to slip away before Logan's drunk enough to make a pass at her?

Rachel looks around the gym. Every expression is familiar.

She wonders if it's too late to take Chloe up on that offer to watch her paint her toenails blue.

She spots Hayden spotting her. He waves her over to the VIP section.

Busted.

Oh, well. This is why alcohol exists, isn't it?

She takes her first steps drunkwards, reminding herself that she shouldn't be so jaded.

She's Amber, after all.

* * *

Trapped in, more like.

Everyone's so happy to see her. Everyone has a smile for her. She has to give everyone a smile back.

Well, almost everyone.

She sits on a couch with Hayden and surveys the scene.

Logan's getting rejected by Dana, but it looks he's having more luck with Mr. Jim Beam.

Juliet and Zach are busy working on the latest round of their saliva exchange program. Which forces Rachel to admit to herself that it's been a while. Not since she ended things with Frank.

She shouldn't think about Frank. It just makes her miss Pompidou.

Dana pushes past Logan. Logan glances at Rachel. He flushes, and goes hunting for another drink.

Nathan's late, which means he's right on schedule.

Victoria's sucking down vodka and shooting pouty looks her way. Girl's getting blitzed, which just means extreme shittiness will be on the agenda slightly earlier than usual.

Such thrill.

Hayden, seeing Mount Victoria start to rumble, suggests retreating to the dance floor.

Rachel doesn't sigh. She doesn't roll her eyes. She does not even throw her shoe at Victoria. She just smiles at Hayden, and gestures grandly towards the dance floor.

She likes the next few songs on the playlist.

Hayden grins, and leaps up. He staggers, catches himself, and tries to laugh it off. He reaches for her hand and...

A girl.

She steps between Hayden and Rachel. She stares down at Rachel with big, blue eyes.

A new girl.

Rachel perks up immediately.

New girl is slim, short, freckled, pretty. Really very, actually. She's dressed kinda bleh, and her makeup could use some work. Her hairstyle is not great, but her hair looks like it would be quite lovely to touch, tug, toy with.

Her eyes are really something, too. They're like gravity wells, pulling Rachel in deep and deeper.

So much so that Rachel barely notices that new girl is clutching a huge paper cup in both hands.

A suitable smile is never out of Rachel's reach. She tamps down her excitement and puts on warm, but puzzled. "Hey, there. I don't think we've met? I-"

New girl shakes her head. "We never meet."

"We're meeting right now, aren't we?"

"Nope."

Rachel laughs, surprised.

If Rachel stands up, she'll be body to body with new girl and it's a bit too early for that sort of thing. She contents herself with throwing her hair behind her shoulders and turning her grin up to dazzling.

"Well, I'm confused. What are we-"

New girl upends her cup and dumps a litre of coke and ice over Rachel's head.

* * *

This is a first.

No one has ever done anything like this to her. Not since she was a child, at least, and that wasn't so cold blooded.

It takes a minute to process, a minute in which ice gets under her dress and coke seeps into it. Her makeup must be a mess and her hair is going to be so much worse.

When she looks up, sputtering and shivering, new girl is gone. Everyone else is gaping at her.

Well, almost everyone.

Victoria is staring off in the direction new girl must have vanished in. Her grin's so shit-eating you could replace Arcadia Bay's entire sewer system with it.

Rachel gets up. She strides towards Victoria. She doesn't have to push anyone out of her way. No one wants to get close to her right now.

Victoria looks up at her, giggling helplessly.

"Victoria. Sweetie. Who was that girl? And how did you convince her to-"

"I didn't. Wish I had! Shit's _hilarious_! Uh, I dunno who she is. Except she's my new best friend? Hey, hold that pose!"

Victoria whips out her phone. Rachel grabs Victoria's left wrist with her left hand. With her right, she gets a firm grip on Victoria's pinkie.

"W-what are you doing? Let go, bitch! I'll-"

Rachel bends Victoria's finger back as far as it will safely go.

Then just a little further.

"If you take a picture of me like this...in fact, if I see _any_ pictures of this online, I'll break all of your fingers. Each at their own angle. Do you believe me?"

Victoria stares up at her, lip trembling. She nods.

"Good girl. Enjoy the rest of the party."

Rachel leaves the VIP area on a tide of whispers, bedraggled head held high.

She almost walks into Nathan. He's clutching a pair of actual glasses, brimming with some kind of alcohol.

"Rachel? What the fuck happened? I-I was bringing you a drink..."

He shoves a glass at her.

Rachel takes the proffered glass, flicks her wrist, and spills the drink on the sweaty gym floor. She passes it back to Nathan.

"I think I've had enough for one night, thank you Nate."

He stares at the spillage in horror. It's an odd look on Nathan Whatthefuckever Prescott.

Rachel steps around him.

Nathan stirs himself. "Come on, at least let me walk you-"

"Victoria's had a bit of a fright, Nate. You should really go see if she's okay. Good night."

Rachel strides away, ignoring everyone and everything around her.

When she's out from under watchful eyes, she laughs until she can't breathe.

* * *

No one remembers seeing new girl's face. No one seems to know who she is. Everyone has heard about what happened, though. About how Rachel was humiliated.

It becomes clear that Victoria's taking credit for the whole thing. But no pictures of Rachel surface from that evening, so Rachel's content to let Victoria salve her pride however she can.

Because Rachel doesn't feel humiliated.

Rachel is intrigued.

There's someone new in Arcadia Bay. Someone she doesn't know. Someone who appears to _hate_ her.

Which is exciting. Right up until she exhausts every avenue of investigation and is left with nothing but a memory that's threatening to become a myth.

* * *

Rachel leaves the next Vortex Club party after twenty minutes. New girl isn't there.

Later that night, when she's chilling with Chloe in the junkyard, Nathan sends her a bunch of weird, demanding messages.

She ignores them.

* * *

Chloe finds Rachel's attitude confusing.

"You're still after the crazy girl? It's been, what? A month or so?"

"Three weeks and three days."

Chloe snorts. She takes a huge bite out of her chocolate ice cream. "Mosht people'd be _happy_." She gulps. "Happy that the crazy person who assaulted them isn't around anymore."

It's late spring. It's warm enough to make ambling with ice cream Rachel's second highest priority.

Rachel licks at her mint ice cream. "Am I most people?"

"No, child. You are not. You are _very_ special. But usually your weird is less...weird?"

"It's not my weird. It's an Arcadia Bay mystery. And I love mysteries!"

"It's a psycho with a grudge. You don't get close to grudging psychos, Rachel."

"But what's the grudge? Where's the motive? Where did she _go_?"

"Three don't knows and one _big_ don't care, Rach. She just better not come back. Not on my watch."

Chloe pauses to devour the rest of her cone.

Rachel strides ahead. She steps off the sidewalk.

Chloe says, "You talked about her, but you never really told me what she looked like. Was she cute? Be honest. Are you driven by her cuteness?"

No.

Solutions are cute.

Mysteries are beautiful.

New girl is leagues beyond.

Add that to the list of things Rachel Does Not Say To Chloe.

"Not relevant, Watson." Rachel looks back at Chloe and smiles a reassuring at her. "The main thing is, she looked like she weighed, at most, ninety pounds. I think I can handle-"

There's a hissing sound, and a squelch, and a splat. Rachel looks down. 

Someone has thrown a stone at her. Hiss. Her ice cream took the hit. Squelch. Her ice cream is all over her new top. Splat.

Rachel's standing in the road at the corner of Lovejoy and Quimby.

Rachel looks up.

Chloe gapes at her from the sidewalk of Quimby.

New girl is on Lovejoy, out of Chloe's line of sight. She winks at Rachel.

Rachel drops her cone. She wastes no breath shouting. She just starts running.

Chloe calls after her. Rachel ignores her.

New girl stands there, head tilted, waiting.

Rachel's feet hit the sidewalk.

Chloe screams.

Rachel whirls round. A truck blasts past her, way too fast, way too close. She's pushed back by the air it displaces, stumbling until her back's to a wall.

Chloe rounds the corner at speed. She doesn't slow down, just plows into Rachel and pulls her into a strangling embrace.

"Holy fuck, Rach! That thing almost..."

Plowed into Rachel and put her into the embrace of the grave.

Rachel wriggles and twists and slips out of Chloe's grasp.

New girl is nowhere to be seen.

"Shit!"

Chloe stares at her, nervous and with so much, _too much_ , love. "Yeah, right? Y-you okay?"

"I...sorry, Chloe. I got ice cream on you."

Chloe looks down at the green smear on her shirt.

"That's not-"

"It _is_ important. We can't be seen wearing matching outfits. The scandal!"

Chloe laughs. It's a choking, desperate sort of laugh, but it's enough.

Rachel navigates the streets and the rest of the conversation with care. 

She doesn't mention new girl. 

There's too much chance that Chloe would believe her.

* * *

Rachel decides to get lateral.

She takes a bath at Chloe's place.

She thinks.

Two sightings. Two pranks. Two disappearances.

All connected to Rachel.

The first prank was public. Premeditated. Designed to embarrass and upset.

The second was anonymous. It was opportunistic. It...

It saved her life.

Rachel frowns at her legs.

More work is required, here.

Rachel applies Gillette to her legs and Occam to her problem.

Prank one was epic. Prank two was lame. No, both were lame. Prank one took place in an epic location. Prank two was just random chance?

Rachel works the razor.

Assume new girl is a local girl. A psycho with a grudge. Her behaviour makes some kind of sense, even if Rachel doesn't know the exact motive.

Logical enough.

Rachel switches leg.

But new girl is not a local. Arcadia Bay is a small town. Rachel knows it well. She's found nothing, not a single piece of data, to identify new girl.

So.

What if she's not a psycho with a grudge? What if she's a psycho, grudgingly?

One prank unquestionably saved Rachel's life.

What if both did?

What if _that_ was the motive, and the prank was the method?

If she hadn't thrown the stone, Rachel would have been hit by a speeding truck.

If she hadn't forced Rachel to leave the party, then...what?

Rachel thinks back to that night. She's replayed it often enough, looking for clues. But on those occasions she was trying to figure out more about new girl, or her motives, or where she might have gone.

This time she thinks about everything else. She looks for the real danger that the prank occluded.

She runs it over and over. Slowly, horribly, a theory comes together.

The theory is awful.

Worse, it's testable.

Rachel runs her hands over her legs. She nods.

* * *

Rachel hears claws scrabbling at the door first.

So she's not surprised that, when Frank opens the door, Pompidou's the one to greet her.

He bodychecks her with tail wagging and tongue straining to get at her face.

Rachel crouches and throws her arms around him. She squeals, "Pom-Pom! I've missed you, too. Yes, I have!"

Rachel gives her whole attention to the dog.

She figures Frank might need a minute.

She needs a minute, too, it turns out. Pompidou's love is so pure and uncomplicated she maybe has to cry into his neck for a bit.

No.

She's on a quest for truth. She should acknowledge it where she finds it.

Pompidou's neck is the only place she feels she can cry and leave her sadness behind without diminishing any other part of her.

Pompidou whines, just once. He presses against her and thumps her with his tail until the tears are gone. She giggles, suddenly, and Pompidou barks, triumphant.

When she's done, she stands up. Pompidou leans into her leg. Frank stands in the doorway to his RV, two beers in his hands. There's a thousand questions in his eyes.

He wordlessly offers her a beer.

"No, thanks."

"You don't want my beer? Then what the fuck do you want, Rachel?"

He can't put enough anger in his tone to trample down the hope.

Meaning Rachel will have to do it for him.

Rachel pushes her fingers into Pompidou's fur. She stares Frank in the eye.

"Just one thing. You're going to tell me exactly what you've been selling Nathan lately."

* * *

Rachel doesn't tell him about new girl. She just tells him about Nathan. Erratic, erroding Nathan. And her theory.

It's not a very nice argument. But sooner or later, Frank always gives in. Too often to his worst impulses, granted. This time, like most other times with Rachel, his better self wins out.

That's one reason they lasted as long as they did.

Unfortunately, it seems to confirm the theory: Nathan tried to drug Rachel. New girl saved her twice.

Rachel has an actual guardian angel. One possessed of a puckish sense of humour, but...holy shit!

Frank growls, "I'll kill him. That little _shit_. I'll cut his fucking heart out!"

Frank's better self is still a work in progress.

That's one reason it ended.

"You sold him date-rape drugs, Frank. What did you think would happen?"

"H-He was having trouble sleeping. He-"

"Paid you a shitload to switch off your brain? God, Frank! I got so lucky. I don't want to think...what if he's used them on someone else?"

But she doesn't quite believe that. Would new girl save her, just to let another suffer in her place? That's not how angels work, is it?

"He's cut off, okay? Completely. And if I see him again, I fucking swear, I'll-"

"Don't. That won't end well, for anyone."

"You're going to let him get away with it?"

Rachel doesn't have to fake the look she gives him. "Who are you talking to, Frank?"

He flinches. He rubs his face, weary. "Right. Yeah. What are you going to do?"

"Tell an adult. Naturally."

"Who the fuck will go against a Prescott in this town? It's not like you have any real evidence."

"There's someone I can trust to get the job done."

"You can trust me, too. You know that, right?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Nathan is going down. How long before he throws you under the bus? You need to get out of town for a while, Frank."

She leaves not long after that. She says goodbye to Frank and hugs Pompidou one last time.

* * *

The fear cuts bone deep when she finds new girl waiting for her outside Mr. Jefferson's classroom.

"Not him, too? No, come on. This is just you fucking with me, right? Right?"

New girl's expression is sorrowful. "Yeah, I remember how that feels. Look. It doesn't end well if you go in there. Come with me."

She walks away.

Rachel follows.

New girl takes her outside, to the fountain.

"So, what? No bucket of paint, today?"

New girl snorts. "That's the first thing you ask me?"

"Are you going to answer my questions?"

"We've got a couple of minutes. So...as few as possible, I guess."

Rachel's voice cracks.

"What the fuck am I supposed to _do_?"

New girl looks at her. She looks tired. In the early evening light, she looks almost entirely human. Like a teenager, pretty and imperfect. And so much better for having imperfections.

Her eyes are the giveaway.

No teenager should have eyes like that. _No one_ should have eyes like that. They've seen too much, those eyes.

But they're still wide open. Unflinching. Alive.

Rachel wonders what it would be like to be loved by someone like new girl. Then she remembers: quest for truth. What would it be like to be loved by new girl? Could Rachel survive it? Could _anyone_?

If it's even a possibility, can Rachel ever settle for anything less?

New girl says, "Here's what you do. Stop taking the people around you for granted. Stop trying to be a perfect memory. Try to be just a slightly nicer person. And have an actual, honest conversation with Chloe about your feelings. If you think you can fucking manage that?"

"What? _What_? That's the extent of your cosmic wisdom? What about Nathan? And Jefferson? Who _are_ you? Why do you keep saving me? Why do you hate me?"

"For such a clever person, you're a bad listener. And, really, you should be able to figure most of that stuff out for yourself."

"How? I've already asked everyone about you!"

New girl looks surprised. "You have? You shouldn't. And, seriously, you need to lay low for a few weeks after today, okay?"

"Not unless you give me a damned good reason-"

"I get grounded for this. So the next few weeks are a bad time to do something stupid."

New girl pulls out a cell phone and glares at it.

"Grounded? Like...by God?"

New girl looks at Rachel, wide eyed. She bursts out laughing. It goes on for far longer than Rachel likes. "Oh, man. I needed that! By my parents, dumbass. I'm only seventeen. Well, eighteen. Both, really, right now."

"You're younger than me? But you can't be just...you have _parents_?"

"Yes! And they're pissed at me, or will be, because I've run away three times in the last few months. They think I have a secret boyfriend. Dog! The timing on this one is so awkward."

"Timing? Are you-"

She pushes her hair away from her face. She groans. "Okay. Try this: causality is a bit like Victoria Chase. Prone to throw a massive fit if she thinks anything in her world is being messed with."

"You _do_ know Victoria. How?"

"Not import-"

Rachel snorts.

"Dog! Fine! I went to school here for a while."

"What? When?"

New girl crosses her arms. "Starting September. This year," she says, flatly.

"Oh. Um. What? That's...you're a _time traveller_? No! More importantly: you're coming here? I get to actually meet you?"

She looks away. "We never meet. And I don't come here. Not anymore." She drags in a breath. "Causality. I've changed things here. I've tried to use the lightest possible touch-"

"Seriously? Because my hair would disagree."

"The lightest touch when manipulating the space-time continuum to keep you alive. _So_ sorry about your hair."

"Why, though?"

"You have nice hair."

"No, I mean-"

"You leave a mess behind. And a lot of other people get hurt."

"Oh. So it's not because of...me."

"Rachel. I really am sorry. But we _never_ meet. This is the most words we've ever exchanged. It's almost all the words we ever will. If I come to Arcadia, in this timeline? Things will break."

"What kinds of things?"

"Physics. The entire town. Hundreds of people. Those things."

Rachel digests that for a minute.

She says, "So why can't I-"

New girl throws her hands up. "Because we exist at different points in time. I'm from your future. Or one possible future. If you run into me between now and when I've come back from, it'll probably upset causality. And if we upset causality too much, you won't have a future. Arcadia Bay won't have a future. Okay? So drop this. In a few minutes, I'll be gone. You'll have plenty more interesting things to worry about than me. Very soon."

New girl takes a couple of steps away. Rachel turns, ready to follow, but new girl waves at her, annoyed.

"I don't leave yet."

Rachel tries to think, but she finds it's all too much, suddenly. Her breath hitches. "Why do you have to leave at all?"

New girl rolls her eyes. "Because I've got other shit to do."

She pauses. She takes a step towards Rachel. "Why would you want me to stay? I'm horrible."

Rachel has no answer to that question. Not one that makes sense. Not one she can say out loud.

But.

"You are not horrible. You keep saving me! And maybe you've got good reasons for being a jerk to me. I-I think you're wonderful. I _know_ you are. I wish..."

Rachel tries not to stare at new girl's lips.

New girl gapes at her. "Oh, are you _cereal_?"

Busted.

Rachel opens her mouth. She has no idea what she's going to say. She's spared finding out when new girl's incredulous expression suddenly changes.

New girl takes a step forward. Another. She's very close.

She smells like a teenaged girl on a modest budget. She has some split ends. Her lips are chapped.

She has uncharted oceans in her eyes.

New girl puts her hand on Rachel's chest. It's humanly warm.

Rachel instinctively leans forward, lips parting.

New girl's breath is sweet when she sighs across Rachel's mouth.

New girl shoves Rachel while there's still an inch between them.

Rachel totters back a step. Her calves hit the rim of the fountain's basin. She loses her balance and falls on her ass in the water.

She somehow doesn't brain herself on the column in the middle of the fountain. She splashes the shallow water with her flailing arms. She soaks herself.

New girl is still there. Watching with a bored expression.

Rachel shrieks. She spits out fountain water. She gasps, "What the actual fuck? How did they not flunk you out of angel school? Or time travel school? Or wherever you came from!"

New girl shrugs. "There's still time, I guess. I haven't finished school." She glances at her phone again, and nods, satisfied. "Third time pays for all. We won't see each other again. Take care of yourself, Rachel. And take care of Chloe."

"No! Don't you dare go anywhere!"

Rachel struggles out of the fountain. She doesn't take her eyes off new girl for more than a second.

That's all it takes.

Rachel looks around wildly. New girl is nowhere to be seen.

"Fuck! Come back here, you callous shit! Don't just...leave me. Please?"

A hand lands heavy on her shoulder.

Rachel yelps.

David Madsen glares at her from between the bill of his Blackwell Security cap and the ugly of his moustache.

"Missy, you've got some explaining to do."

Rachel grits her teeth. "No, you've got some _listening_ to do. According to the universe's most _fucked up_ guardian angel."

David's head of security at Rachel's school. He's also Chloe's step-dad. He's looked at Rachel with deep suspicion and every shade of anger in the time they've known each other.

He's never looked quite so baffled before. Rachel wants to laugh, when he says, "Is this a drugs thing?"

Instead, she sighs. "It is. But I think it's something much worse, too. Nathan Prescott's involved. And...Mark Jefferson."

David's face hardens. It's not anger she sees, though. It's resolve, maybe?

"Come to my office. We'll get you dried out and you can tell me everything."

By the time she's done telling David all her theories and suspicions, she figures out what emotion David's tight-stretched skin and knife-edge lips strain against.

It's wrath.

* * *

Chloe's limpet impersonation gets a lot of use in the weeks that follow.

She clings to Rachel through Nathan's arrest and Jefferson's flight.

She doesn't ease up when Jefferson gets picked up by state police a few days later.

The news gets out, about the secret pervert bunker. And the red binders. When Chloe hears about the empty one, with Rachel's name on it, well.

Rachel doesn't have to look very far for her fear. It's in Chloe's eyes, her trembling hands, her too long hugs.

Rachel realises that she's kind of a shitty person when she sees how hard Chloe tries for her. How much Chloe loves her and wants to be her rock.

But being with Chloe makes Rachel feel like there's a millstone round her neck.

Chloe's love isn't the problem. Rachel's is.

So one day when they're smoking in Rachel's dorm room, Chloe looks at her the wrong way. With unguarded tenderness. With longing.

And Rachel realises that her asshole angel has a point.

"We need to talk."

Chloe blinks. "Uh, sure. Any time, Rach. You know I'm here for you."

"You should maybe do that less."

"What?"

"You love me. And I love you, Chloe."

Chloe stares at her, pale and wordless.

"It's not the kind of love you want from me, though."

Chloe swallows. She rasps, "Rachel, I don't..."

"I wish I did. Oh, God! How great would that be?"

Chloe looks away. "Please. Rachel, please..."

"You're my best friend. For fucking ever. You're my sister. You're...so amazing. You need to look past me. You need to find the person who can-"

"Shut up." Chloe's on her feet. "Shut the fuck up, Rachel. I don't want to hear it."

Abruptly, she crosses to the door. She yanks it open. She pauses on the threshold.

She doesn't look back. She asks, "Who?"

It sounds like she's choking.

Rachel admits as much truth as she dares at that moment. "No one you know."

"You're a bitch, Amber. A real fucking bitch."

She storms out.

Rachel sprawls on her bed and smokes the last of her joint. She looks out into the corridor through the door Chloe left open behind her.

"Yeah. The people who matter all seem to agree with you on that one."

* * *

The last days of the school year are pretty rough.

Chloe avoids her. It's impressive, given how few places there are to hide in this town.

Rachel thought she knew them all. That's just something else she was wrong about.

Victoria tries her best to make Rachel's life hell. Rachel does her best to ignore it. Victoria's closest friend is in a mental institution. Her favourite teacher is in prison.

She's hurting.

Frank disappears.

Rachel can't get marijuana anymore. But she can still get her hands on alcohol easily enough.

She takes to drinking too much.

She forgets to look both ways before crossing the street.

New girl never shows up.

Rachel will have to go back home soon.

It's that more than anything that takes her to the cliff edge by the lighthouse.

* * *

Rachel tells herself that she's thought this through.

This has to work. Right?

She looks down at the water dashing itself on the rocks below. She swallows.

She doesn't want to die. She really truly does not.

But she can't leave things as they are. She wants to see new girl again. No, she _needs_ to see new girl again. No. It's both.

She takes a deep breath. And a _calculated_ risk.

Rachel puts her foot out over empty air.

A hand grabs the back of her sweater and hauls her back, onto firmer ground.

Rachel spins round eagerly.

Chloe Price snarls, "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Chloe? What are you-"

"I come up here every day, asswipe. I was sitting here when I saw you coming. So I hid, obviously. Now, what the _fuck_ are you doing?"

So Rachel tells Chloe everything this time.

Chloe asks a lot of questions about new girl. Rachel answers all of them honestly.

By the time it's all laid out they're sprawled on the bench watching the sunset.

Chloe has this weird, faraway look on her face.

It seems fair. It's a weird story.

"Hey."

Chloe stirs. "What?"

"I've missed you. Butt."

"But what?"

"Dog butt."

"Yeah. Same. You're a dog butt, too."

Rachel sighs and doesn't care who hears the relief in it.

"Rach? What would you do if you found her?"

"Honestly? I'd say thank you. And tell her that she's got a friend for life. And probably ask her if she wants to get coffee with me?"

"She doesn't like you, you said."

"And yet she travelled through time to save me. Who _does_ that? What wouldn't you do to bring that kind of person into your life?"

Chloe's quiet for a long time. 

Eventually she says, "Could you ever...nah. Forget that. What if she doesn't want you?"

Rachel shrugs. "She probably doesn't. But I'd still go tell her that I _am_ her friend. She might need me one day. I'll be there, if I can." Rachel studies her best friend's profile. "You know you get the same deal, right?"

Chloe grins, wryly. "Up to the coffee but not the implied sex, I take it?"

"Uh, yeah. That would be accurate. Sorry."

Chloe nods. "Apology accepted. Let's leave it in the past."

"Are you going to help me, Chlo?"

"Jury's out. Let me show you something first."

Chloe digs out her wallet. She produces a photograph, folded and clearly often handled. She passes it to Rachel reluctantly.

"It's baby Chloe in a pirate hat? Cute, but..."

"Unfold it."

Chloe's shaking.

Rachel unfolds the picture.

* * *

Max Caulfield lies in wait for her alarm. When it starts to buzz, she swats it. She lies there for four more minutes, staring into nothing.

She gets up. She stretches and pads over to her laptop. She switches it on. While it powers up, she heads downstairs in search of coffee.

She's surprised to find a birthday card from her parents waiting for her. "Shit. I'm nineteen today? I lost track again..."

Sometimes she thinks it was a mistake, taking a year out. Already the days are blending into each other. She doesn't exactly have much to show for it, either.

A selfie a day, almost, doesn't count.

As she finishes making coffee, she knows it wasn't a mistake, though. She only thinks so when her alarm wakes her up, rather than the nightmares.

She needs this time. She's still healing.

She looks at her scraggly self in the hall mirror. The steaming coffee in her hand is the liveliest thing she can see.

"I'm healing," she says, defiantly.

Her reflection gives her a tired, knowing look.

* * *

Max sits down at her laptop and cyberstalks Chloe and Rachel.

It's been months since her last trip back, but she checks in every day.

She needs to make sure everything stays fixed this time.

And it actually seems to be. It all seems to have worked out.

Well, okay. In this timeline, she doesn't reconnect with Chloe. And she never will.

She doesn't get to meet Kate Marsh.

She doesn't get much of anything, really. Except the satisfaction of tweaking fate's nose and keeping Chloe alive and sane. Rachel, too. And Max also gets a huge dose of PTSD she can never tell anyone about.

Well. She _did_ get to mess with Rachel Amber's head, which helped with Max's lingering jealousy issues.

Sort of. She really wanted to hate Rachel. But that was before.

Max feels the usual twinge of guilt looking at Chloe's Facebook page. Chloe and Rachel made it to LA alright, but they never got together.

Max isn't sure if that's her fault. She isn't sure she could bear finding out, so she just focuses on the fact that they both seem happy. Rachel's modelling. Chloe's studying graphic design. According to social media, they're flatmates. They're best friends.

Max saved them. And no one else but her had to pay any kind of price.

Everybody wins, right?

Max switches off the laptop. She decides to shower, and maybe eat a real breakfast, and go outside today. She'll take her cameras. She'll take pictures. She'll enjoy her birthday.

She will not think, at all, about the time she was almost kissed by Rachel Amber.

She'll just revel in the fact that Rachel is alive, and joyous, and impossibly beautiful. Photographs don't do her justice.

And Mark Jefferson did not capture one single part of her essence. Not one single fucking bit.

That's not Max's victory. That's everyone's.

Max finds another mirror to glare in. She jabs a finger at her reflection. "This is going to be a good day! I am going to have a good day."

Her reflection looks doubtful. She decides to ignore it.

* * *

Max is just out of the shower when the doorbell rings.

She's without socks, still damp, and her hair is all over the place when she opens the door.

Rachel Amber grins at her.

"Max fucking Caulfield! It's been _far_ too long."

"What? How-"

Rachel snorts. "It took, like, two hours to find you after Chloe and I put our heads together. Oh!"

Rachel punches Max in the shoulder. Hard.

"That's from Chloe. She says now that the causality deadline bullshit is out of the way, you should stop being a pussy and just fucking call her. Tonight. Her words!"

"Deadline? What?"

Rachel's grin broadens. "Remember how you said we couldn't meet because of destroying time and space, or something?"

"That's not exactly-"

"Well! You told me future you were eighteen then, which is why we couldn't meet. But you're not eighteen anymore, so right now you're safe to be around, right? Max, I have had to be _so_ patient waiting for this day. I'm clever, and persistent, but I'm _not_ patient."

Rachel's grin buckles under the pressure of Max's stare. She's clearly nervous underneath it all.

"Are you mad?"

Max sighs. "No. Just...concerned. This probably isn't a good-"

"Max? You saved my life. And _ruined_ my hair. I'm going to the cafe on the corner. I'll be there for an hour. Don't worry about the past or the future, just for today. It's your birthday, isn't it? Let me be your present?"

Max catches a glimpse of her reflection in one of the front door's glass panes. Her reflection is smiling.

Max says, "Let me get dressed. I'll meet you there."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I've never written a LiS story with time travel before. Arguably, I still haven't. But this idea hit me yesterday and apparently I needed to get this out of my system more than I needed things like sleep.
> 
> I'm going to go to sleep.
> 
> Comment at me like (I'm) one of your French girls.


End file.
